A Lady of England 49

A Lady of England 49

In this step of Miss Tucker’s a clue may perhaps be found for some lives,

here or there, where a vocation is earnestly sought and not yet found.

Why should not other middle-aged ladies go out, as she went out?--not

necessarily always to attempt full Zenana work; but to be protectors,

housekeepers, nurses, to younger and more active ladies? Whether it

would be right to use any portion of Mission-funds for such a purpose

may be doubted; and in many a case Mission _rooms_ could not be spared;

but there are exceptions as to the latter. And as to the money part of

the question, doubtless many a warm-hearted lady, over fifty years of

age, free from home-ties, with a spirit full of love and self-devotion,

could afford to spend £150 or £200 a year on such an object. Much might

be done by her to cheer up the workers, to leave them more free for all

that needed most to be done,--and indirectly she might help forward the

work of evangelisation by the mere force of a fair Christian example in

a dark land. There can be no question that Miss Tucker’s _life_ worked

far more effectually than her words. What she said may have been long

ago forgotten. What she was will never be forgotten. Her spoken words

doubtless had at the time some power; her written words perhaps had much

more; her life had by far the most of all.

 

For any such line of life as is above suggested, however, only that type

of woman is fit which has been already described in some of A.L.O.E.’s

letters. Thin-skinned, anxious, feeble-spirited ladies, easily worried

and easily vexed, will not do; and angular, managing, argumentative

ladies would be quite as unsuitable. Those alone may venture who are

not only fairly strong in health, vigorous in spirit, fearless as to

difficulties, and careless as to discomforts, but who are also gentle,

kind-hearted, sympathetic, willing to yield to the judgment of others,

ready to please and not to rule. Almost above everything else, there

should be a freedom from grumbling tendencies. If _such_ elderly ladies

of England are willing to tread in A.L.O.E.’s footsteps, and to give the

Evenings of their lives to Mission-work, openings enough for them might

be found.

 

The closing words of Mrs. Elmslie’s letter to Mrs. Hamilton on December

8, show what Miss Tucker’s presence in the Amritsar bungalow had been: ‘I

shall miss my darling Charlotte much. She has been sunshine to me ever

since she came; and I am accustomed to think of her as a very precious

gift from a loving Father Who knows our need. I hope to have her again

at Christmas. Please feel assured that we shall tenderly watch over your

dear one, even though not so closely together as formerly.’ Miss Wauton

also, speaking of that time, says: ‘Her general presence was a great

cheer to her fellow-workers there.’

 

Mention has been made of the Mission-tree,--a large banyan, in front

of the Amritsar bungalow, where Miss Tucker had now spent so many

months. The central trunk had received the name of Amritsar, and other

slender trunks around, already rooted, had received the names of

various out-stations, where occasional work had been begun, but where

no Missionaries yet resided. One slender shoot was called after Batala.

It had then just reached the ground, but was not firmly rooted. Now, in

1895, it is ‘a thick, substantial trunk.’

 

Batala, a walled town, about a mile across, has a population of some

25,000 people, and is twenty-four miles to the east of Amritsar. The

Dalhousie range of the mighty Himalayas lies about fifty miles off;

but the mountains, when snow-capped, look very much nearer. In those

days there was not, as there is now, a line of rail connecting Amritsar

with Batala. The journey from one to the other had commonly to be

accomplished, either by _tum-tum_, a light cart, with two or three

changes of horses; or else by _ekka_, a country cart, which last mode of

conveyance was very often used by Miss Tucker in coming years. It was a

peculiarly rough and wearisome mode of travelling, the ekka having no

springs; but very early she took to doing as far as possible what the

Indians do in such cases. Anything that would tend to make her one with

them was eagerly attempted. For instance, she began speedily to sit upon

the floor as Natives do; and at Indian gatherings or feasts she would

not only sit as they sat, but would share their food. She must have

been singularly supple-jointed for her years, to be able to adopt this

position without any serious inconvenience. The Rev. Robert Clark writes,

with reference to her Batala mode of life:--

 

‘No conveyance was kept. Miss Tucker always travelled in her

little dhoolie (or bird’s-nest carriage), or in an ekka, a

native conveyance without springs, where a seat about a yard

square was perched on wooden wheels. On this she spread her

bedding, which is always carried about by Missionaries. She was

so well accustomed to sit on the ground, that her legs in this

conveyance never were in the way. She gracefully folded them

before or under her--we never could tell how--in a position

which was very painful to most English people, but which seemed

quite natural to her. She often used to trot over in this way,

in an ekka, to Amritsar, on a road which caused many bumps

and aches to most people’s heads and arms and bodies; but she

would never allow that the shaking of twenty-four miles of such

travelling as this ever did her any harm. I think she wished to

be an example to us all. We used to travel then in tum-tums or

buggies, or other vehicles with springs. But ekkas have much

more become the fashion in our Missionary circles.’

 

One idea Miss Tucker had, on first going to Batala, which the other

Missionaries dissuaded her with great difficulty from putting into

execution. This was to _dress_ as the Indians do! It was not considered

a wise or desirable plan, from any point of view; but Charlotte Tucker

had gone so far, in her enthusiasm, as to provide herself with a Native

dress, and her heart was very much set upon wearing it. To make her give

up this favourite idea was no easy matter.

 

Batala is a picturesque old town, with fine banyan-trees, and many old

mango-tree gardens towards the north, enclosed either by walls or by

aloe hedges, curiously appropriate for A. L. O. E. It is said that in

her younger days a review of some of her books spoke of them as being

‘bitter, like the name of their Author.’ Did Miss Tucker ever recall this

little notice when she looked upon the aloe hedges of Batala?

 

There is also a large lake-like tank close to the house in which Miss

Tucker lived, and other tanks lie further off. This nearer tank has an

ornamental pleasure-house in the middle; and the tomb of the man who

dug the tank is on its bank. Many handsome old tombs are to be seen in

the place. The town itself is old, with exceedingly crooked and narrow

streets; so narrow, that a duli when carried through often touches the

walls on both sides. The Batala people have the character of being

particularly bigoted, hard-natured, quarrelsome, and difficult to deal

with.

 

Early in 1876 Miss Wauton had written in the Society’s Report: ‘I think

we may consider the Batala Mission now thoroughly established.’ This

meant that about five Girls’ Schools had been opened for Hindu, Sikh,

and Muhammadan scholars, under the superintendence of the Catechist’s

wife, being from time to time visited by the Amritsar Missionary ladies.

The children were taught elementary Christian truths; they learned to

sing simple hymns; and books were given to them. The work, however,

was hardly more than begun, when A. L. O. E. decided to make Batala her

home. One Native Catechist and his wife were there; one Batala man had

been baptized; and a certain number of children had begun to learn a

few simple truths. For the rest, Batala was ‘a stronghold of bigoted

Muhammadanism.’

 

And the first thing which had to be done was _not_ to reap a harvest,

_not_ to begin looking for results, but simply to plough the hard ground,

and thus to make seed-sowing a matter of possibility. When the ground was

broken and softened, then the seed might be sown; after that, the sown

seed could be watered, and the harvest patiently waited for.

 

Almost every letter at this time contains something of interest. To quote

half of what might be quoted is impossible, for lack of space. It seems,

however, worth while to give fuller records of these early days, when

all was fresh, and when Miss Tucker’s interests were keenly awake to her

novel surroundings, even though more fulness here means some curtailing

later.

 

A certain change in the style of her letters is observable after she

reached India, especially in the long series to Mrs. Hamilton. Personal

matters are pushed very much into the background; while tendencies to

introspection or to moralisings are almost non-existent. The letters

fall naturally into a simple record of the work being done. She is far

too fully occupied with things and people around to have any leisure

to bestow upon her own feelings. Moreover, the mode of __EXPRESSION__

gains a terseness and vigour, not always characteristic of the earlier

correspondence.

 

To write the life of A. L. O. E. at this period is hardly possible,

without at the same time writing the life of the Infant Church at Batala.

The one is almost identical with the other.

 

The house in which their first start was to be made is described by Miss

Tucker, as will be seen, in somewhat glowing terms. She was resolutely

bent upon making the best of everything, and upon seeing all around

through her rose-coloured spectacles. There were, however, two sides to

the question. The ‘house,’ so called, was in reality an old Sikh palace,

‘used by Sher Singh, son of Maharajah Singh, as a hunting-box.’ Sher

Singh is said to have spent no more than one night in it. The building

was very substantial, and two-storied. A central room below was over

thirty feet in length, and another exactly over it was of the same size.

Other smaller rooms lay around, and of these one was chosen for Miss

Tucker’s bedroom. The great, ponderous, creaking doors were difficult

to close; and the wind would sweep through them in a manner suggestive

of chill and rheumatism. In the winter months they were very cold and

comfortless apartments. The name of the old palace was ‘Anarkalli.’[55]

 

‘When we first used these rooms, during occasional visits to Batala,’

writes Miss Wauton, ‘they were largely haunted by owls, bats, and rats;

and it was a long time before these occupants understood that they had

notice to quit the premises. Then it seemed impossible ever to make those

huge, weird, gloomy-looking rooms at all cosy and home-like. However,

we did our best with matting, screens, and furniture, to make it look

habitable. And in Miss Tucker’s eyes the very strangeness and romance of

the place made up for its deficiency in warmth and comfort.’ Mr. Clark

also, referring to this large and somewhat dreary palace, says of it:

‘The winds blew through many chinks in the uncurtained doors; and the

house was once likened to Eden, because four streams flowed through it.’